Down Kitkat Lane
by kitkat681
Summary: A fabulous collab from twelve super talented writers written to celebrate my birth. Come enjoy their take on some of my stories! Rated M for sex...eventually and a shitload of funny. BEST GIFT EVER!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! As you can tell from the summary...this is NOT my work. What this is, is an amazing and overwhelming gift that twelve fabulous women put together. In each chapter there is a reference (or two) to some of my stories as well as hints to my life outside the fic world.  
**

**This gift was too spectacular and I just had to share it with you.  
**

**Cara No, JA Mash, Edward's Eternal, TexasBella, Reyes139, BellaEdwardlover1991, les16, Bornonhalloween, Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy, Shell Shock, ****Ladyeire** and Whiti  


**All those talented and supportive people got together and wrote this...  
**

**Just for me.  
**

**And now I'm sharing it with you.  
**

**Be sure to check out the amazing Banner that JA Mash made for me...and yes...that is my face AND my tits :)  
**

**i1164 . photobucket . com/albums/q565/kitkatcullen/72a998cd . jpg**

**And Now I give you...  
**

**Down Kitkat Lane  
**

**~Prologue~**

**Written by JA Mash**

**Ms. Katherine Komma's POV**

"Ms. Komma," Mr. Cullen grunts at me, not looking up from his intent study of the files on his desk. "Need to have a word with you."

I brighten.

"—by which I mean, I'm going to talk, you're going to listen, and you will not say anything until I'm done, at which point if you choose to speak, I'm fully able to walk away at my leisure."

I dim. I start to open my mouth to say, "Okay", but Mr. Cullen looks at me, drawing a savage red line beneath a score that displeases him, and I shut it again. I nod.

Mr. Cullen slants a flat glance at me and hmmphs. "What's that?" When I hesitate, trying to figure out if this is permission to speak or not, Mr. Cullen rolls his eyes and points with a jab of his pen. "In. Your. Hand, Ms. Komma. What is that in your hand? I can use smaller words, if you like? I mean, you are new to this agency. It's to be expected that you're a little behind the rest of the class."

_It's a paper cup of coffee. Venti-sized. Quintuple-shot espresso in dark roast, no sugar, no cream, scalding hot, Mr. Cullen's very favorite drink in the whole world, and I would know since I've watched—okay, spied on—Mr. Cullen buying a cup this size, from this very vendor, every single morning since I started at Ellipsis Real Estate._

I run out of mental breath and my mouth starts moving. "Coffee."

"Huh. Why is it here?" Mr. Cullen waves me off. "Doesn't matter. No drinks during floor time, you know that. Either chug fast or throw it away."

_But… I bought it for you_, I think. "You—do you want it?"

"Me? God, no. I gave up coffee for Lent."

"It's October."

"Are you questioning the validity of my religious beliefs?" Mr. Cullen looks offended. He takes the cup from me and drops it in the trash. _Thunk._

Which is actually not such a bad thing, because while I like to think of myself as a good woman, nice, someone who gets along with absolutely everyone I meet—and damn it, the rest of the world thinks so, too—because despite all of that, I figure I was about point five seconds from dumping the coffee over Mr. Cullen's head.

I'm kinda tempted to fish the cup out of the trash and go for the java shower anyway.

Mr. Cullen's already moved on though. Once again immersed in reading about the wish list of the current top dollar client, he digs in the pocket of his jacket and fishes out a tiny black rectangle about the size and shape of a Tic-Tac box and tosses it my way. "Heads' up," he says after I've already fumbled the catch. "See why we don't allow drinks on the floor? That could've been nasty."

My fist tightens around the box. I grit my teeth, count to twenty in French—_which I only know because I sometimes like to pretend I'm an exotic tourist here to see the sights and get in the pants of as many beautiful men as I can dream about drowning in_—which, by the way, never works and doesn't start working now.

"I see that," I say instead of tearing a strip off Edward. _Mr. Cullen. Dickhead_.

Damned, pissant, irritating, aggravating, fucking hot as melted butter on a baked potato, could not stop thinking about him since I started working here and if I'm pathetic enough to close my eyes, I can still hear him moaning like he did in my dream the night before. _That_ Mr. Cullen. _Edward_.

I pop out of my reverie to the sound of clicking. Mr. Cullen's snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. "Wow, it'd be nice to dream my life away, too," he says, smile bright and eyes unreadable. "Unlucky me, I have a job."

"Mr. Cul—," I start, knowing I sound desperate, but aggravated horniness will do that to a woman.

"Okay…" Mr. Cullen drops his file. "I can see we're going to have to add subsection 'b' to this talk, and I'd really hoped we wouldn't have to, so this is going to cost you." He props himself on the edge of the table and crosses his arms. "Tell me, just because I called you in here to 'talk'"—he adds the air quotes—"you don't think we're friends now, do you?"

I can answer this question, at least, without equivocation. "No, sir." It's halfway true. _We could be friends—more than—if Edward gave me a chance._

_Yeah, and tomorrow bacon will be proved as an excellent source of zero-trans-fat heart-healthy fiber._

Disgusted with myself, I mirror Mr. Cullen's pose. He waves the black box at me and I take a closer look. It's… plain. A teensy black plastic rectangle with a discreetly recessed tiny black button one-sixth the size of his thumb. I take the box and click it curiously.

Nothing happens.

"Ah, playtime. The nostalgia of childhood will bring a tear to my eye. It really will." Mr. Cullen snatches the box away from me and holds it up so they can both see the button.

I obediently look at the box, because as I will admit to myself, I'm just that whipped by the Almighty Power of the Cullen Ass.

"This is company policy," Mr. Cullen explains. I focus intently on his words and try to ignore the draw of the 'Almighty Cullen Ass', but I gave up coffee. I don't have the energy to fight it.

"When we get a new client, you take it with you, and whenever they complain about a property you point, you click, you put it away, end of story, and by the way, this is the conclusion of the talk I'd intended to have with you. Now that it's over and done, I think you have properties to show, don't you?"

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******Next chapter will be up soon! **


	2. Chapter 2

**~Chapter 1~**

**Written by CaraNo**

**Reference to _Good Vs. Evil_ and _Self Storage_. Oh, and a tiny reference to _Down and Derby_.**

**Note: Since Kitkat really did name one of the fictional kiddos after me, I'm mighty pleased about using Self Storage!**

**Ms. Katherine Komma's POV**

"Jesus Christ," I whisper under my breath as my next potentials enter my office. A man and a woman, though my eyes are definitely on the man. Talk about blessed in the making.

"Yeah, that'd be me," the woman says…for some reason. She smiles sweetly, and the fuckhot man looks at her adoringly. "But please, call me Bella."

I gather my wits. After all, I'm not one of the best real-estate agents in the area for no reason at all. Granted, I'm new at this agency, but not in general, and if I have my way, my boss won't call me Newbie for long.

"Bella," I say, standing up. "Very nice to meet you. I'm Katherine. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," she responds. "And this is my husband – Edward."

_Rawr._

"Pleasure to meet you, Edward," I say politely.

He looks devilishly delicious. There's a spark of something wicked in his eyes, and two proverbial horns push out from his hairline, basically letting people know that he's the devil if fucked with. _Oh, don't worry, honey. I won't fuck with you. I'm just going to find you a home and get a big-ass commission. You're my eye candy, though. Suck it up._

As Edward takes a seat next to his wife, I watch as he slowly licks his bottom lip.

"God, have mercy on me," I whimper to myself.

Unfortunately, my comment didn't go unnoticed. "Oh, my Father is always merciful, but let's leave him out of this," Bella says, still smiling that sweet smile of hers. I don't understand her one bit, but perhaps her handsome hubby fucked the smart out of her. Who knows, _really_?

Anyway… "You're looking for a house," I say, clearing my throat. "I have your file right here." I dig through the shit on my desk and find the papers my assistant gave me earlier. I also notice the clicker my boss gave me earlier. With an internal shrug, I keep it close...just in case.

"Big family, I see." I smile down at the document, and then I look up at Edward and Bella. "You've stated that you need a house big enough for you and your four children?"

Edward cracks a big smile at that. "Yeah, we have four little angels. All girls, all giving me grays."

Bella throws him a playful glare. "Hey, we're lucky they didn't take after your dad or something."

"Amen, love," Edward chuckles. He throws me a smirk. "My dad is _quite_ the devil."

Um…

Okay. "Well." I clear my throat again. "I have several houses I think you're going to love."

Looking down at the paper, I add, "And you've also said that you need plenty of storage space, which is why I think you might even settle on the first house I'm going to show you. The couple who are selling, also own a storage unit nearby, and they offer the first six months for free."

Edward shrugs.

Bella smiles. "Let's go take a look at it!"

***o*O*o***

When we arrive at the big house, I take the lead and walk up to ring the doorbell.

Bella and Edward stand slightly behind me.

It doesn't take very long until I hear someone on the other side padding closer. The door swings open and I'm met by this huge…man-boy…if you could say that. He can't be more than seventeen, but he shares the size of a linebacker. A geeky one, at that. But he's kind of cute, I suppose, even in his glasses.

"Hello," I say. "My name is Katherine Komma, and I'm with Ellipsis Real Estate. Is Mr. or Mrs. Cullen home?"

The man…boy…he… eh, Glasses grins hugely. "Well, how about this!" he booms out, laughing. "Classic!" A little girl joins the party of confusion, though I think I'm the only one who's confused. "Cara, you actually did it, didn't you?"

The little girl, Cara – who looks about eight years old – grins proudly. "Grampa helped me!"

I still don't understand.

"DADDY!" Cara suddenly screams. _What an obnoxious little thing._ "I pranked you! Daddy! Mommy!"

Looking over my shoulder, I share glances with Edward and Bella, and I'm thankful that they don't seem to know what's going on, either.

Expecting to see an adult or two joining us, I'm more than a little surprised when two little boys come running.

"Uncle Emmett, we need your help!" one of the boys cries out.

Glasses – or Emmett – looks down at the set of twin boys. "Where's your little sister?" he asks anxiously, looking around. "Where's Samantha?"

The boys look down, and I'm growing impatient.

The clicker in my pocket might get...you know...clicked.

"MOMMY!" Cara screams again. God, screamers are the _worst_.

"Samantha kicked the bucket," the other boy mumbles.

Bella and I gasp in horror, and Bella speaks first. "Oh, no, that's so sad. How did she die? What happened? Oh, heavens." Facing her husband, she adds, softly, "I'll talk to God about this. Mark my words."

_Wow. Someone sure has faith._

"Um, lady." Cara huffs and places her hands on her hips. "Nobody died. Sam just kicked the bucket."

_For the love of Satan, would somebody just tell me what's going on?_

By the way: click, click, click.

Emmett pipes in. "She's talking about the poop bucket. My sister is pregnant again, and Sam kicked her bucket. You know, she uses it to throw up in. I just hope it wasn't full, if you know what I mean!" He starts laughing.

The _what_?

"Jesus," Edward mutters behind me.

"Yes, honey?" Bella responds, and don't ask me why.

While the couple behind me starts talking quietly, I turn to Emmett. "Is there an adult here that I can talk to?"

Before Glasses can reply, though, a very attractive man appears in the doorway.

He sort of reminds me of the handsome devil behind me.

"Mr. Cullen?" I inquire.

The man, who is holding a mop for some reason, nods and frowns. "I'm not interested in whatever you're selling," he tells me, causing me to choke on…nothing, really. "Look, I just found out my wife is pregnant with our sixth child, okay? As happy as I am – and God knows I'm happy-"

"He sure does," Bella chimes in behind me.

_Okay, I need Ritalin or something! STAT!_

"Uh, right." Mr. Cullen shakes his head, looking only half as confused as I feel. "Whatever. I'm fucking thrilled, but cleaning up puke ain't all that hilarious, ya know? So, the last thing I need right now is some salesperson going from door to door, selling crap I won't ever need."

"We have a bucket for crap," one of the boys says, nodding solemnly.

Mr. Cullen cracks a small smile at the boy before facing me again. "Thank you, but the answer is no. Now, I gotta get back to my wife."

"Wait!" I say before he can close the door. "I'm-I'm really confused here, but…" Fuck, deep breaths. "I'm here to show my clients your house."

He frowns deeply. "Why the hell would you do that?"

_Do not yell at the man. Do not yell at the man. Click. _

Another deep breath. "Your house is for sale, is it not?" I grit out.

.

"W-what?" he chokes out. Behind him, Cara and Emmett are laughing. So are the two boys.

"No, our house is not for sale! We just moved here, dammit!" _Excuse me?_ "We moved from our townhouse a few months ago because it wasn't big enough! So, why on earth would we _move_?"

_Fuck Ritalin. A bottle of vodka and some horse tranquilizers is more like it!_

"We pranked you, Daddy!" Cara squeals, and I think I could just choke the kid. "When you fooled Grampa on April Fool's Day, we swore we'd get back! And we did, Daddy! We did!" She's laughing so hard that she's wheezing. "GOTCHA!"

"Wait, so you and Grampa put our house on the market?" Mr. Cullen asks her incredulously.

Cara giggles and nods and wipes away tears of laughter. Really, I could kill her. Mr. Cullen groans at his daughter. "Oh, Jesus Christ, baby."

"Hey, don't call my wife 'baby'!" Edward snaps behind me.

_All right. I've fucking had it._

CLICK!

We're so outta here. It's clear that this couple isn't selling their damn house.

I guess I should just take them to the next house…before I lose my goddamn mind!

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	3. Chapter 3

**~Chapter 2~**

**Written by Edward's Eternal**

**Reference to _Good Vs. Evil_ and _The Cottage _and a touch of _Fatty_.**

"Excuse me Ms. Komma? We'd like to see this place."

I look up from my desk. Mr. Hottie, I mean Mr. Evil-Good, is back and holding out a listing. Really, did the room get warmer when he walked in?

I look at the listing, my eyebrows lifting as I read it. _Who the hell wrote this shit?_

Seriously?

Small, cozy, needs some TLC, maybe a new roof, cottage, in the woods.

Private, secluded, tucked away, great for weekend getaways.

No running water…but there is a stream out back…very…invigorating!

Nice trees…good sized garden… handmade swing in the yard.

_Comes_ furnished…cozy quilts included.

I look up. I swear Mr. Hottie is smirking. "Why would you want to see something like this?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"We, ah, like private places... places that are… harder to find…"

"I'm sure we can find you something you like in our listings Mr. Hot… ah…. Evil-Good."

He shakes his head. "No. We'd like to see this one."

I look at the co-ordinates and my hand slips to the box in my pocket. The fucking thing doesn't even have an address. "It'll take a while to drive there," I inform him. _Clickety-click._

"No problem. Tomorrow good?"

I sigh... and click. So much for drinking myself into oblivion tonight. Although after today's disastrous showing, I suppose I owe them.

I smile. "Sure – 10am?"

He shakes his head defiantly. "We'd rather leave at 8, if that's okay. We'll leave the kids with the Grandpa. God loves that."

I look at him. _What, does he think they get points with the man upstairs by leaving their kids with the grandparents? _I was going to tell him there were other ways of getting in good with the Lord, but decided, _to each his own_. And 8 am? So much for my run as well. But I smile like the professional I am and nod. "8am then," I agree as I give the button another shove.

***o*O*o***

The next day I find myself driving down the highway with the Evil-Good couple in the back seat once again. I glance in the mirror. And do a double take._ I must have drunk more last night than I thought. _With the sunlight streaming in the back window, she seems to glow with a pale white light radiating from her, while beside her, Mr. Hottie's aura is that of burning embers. "Jesus," I mutter. Their images certainly match their name.

"Yeah?" she looks up at me from her coffee.

I shake my head, startled. "Nothing," I smile. _Why does she always do that? And how the fuck did she hear me?_

She giggles from the back seat and I see Hottie lean over and plant one on her. Then two. Long, lingering tongue involved kisses. I lookaway embarrassed, and then suddenly wonder why I can smell marshmallows roasting. I sniff again. Definitely marshmallows and fire. _ What the fuck? And why is the temperature of the car rising?_

"Careful!" Bella suddenly shouts out and I swerve, accidently clicking the button on the box as my hand darts out to stop the stack of paperwork from flying off the front seat while I narrowly avoid missing a group of runners being led by a small dark haired woman going down the road.

Looks like a motivational trainer or something.

She is yelling at them to pick up the pace and I watch in the rear view mirror as she jumps on the back of one tall runner and hitches a ride. I don't get a good look at the woman since her dark hair covers her face, but he looks vaguely familiar and I find myself glancing back at Edward. "Do you have a brother?"

"Fuck no," he says cheerfully. "No doubt the devil tried, but it only worked once! Thank Christ for that!"

"Actually, I don't think I had anything to do with it, maybe God did though…" she mumbles beside him.

Once again I shake my head. These two are a little wacko. It is like they live in their own little…world. Or bubble. A fucking hot bubble…

***o*O*o***

We stand in a clearing. "I don't understand. The cottage should be right there…" I point to the vacant lot. I grab for my cellphone before remembering there is no service in this God forsaken spot.

Edward walks around, looking. Bella walks over to him and I hear them talking quickly.

"Fucker is messing with us again… he knew we wanted this one…smote it… just for spite cause we didn't ask him to look after the girls... fucking devil." _What the hell are they on about?_

They hurry over, each taking an elbow, and drag me down the path we had just walked up. I am so confused. _Another bad listing? In two days? What are the odds?_

"Never mind, . We'll look at your listings. I'm sure you'll find us something," soothes Bella. "I have all the faith in the world."

Edward laughes. "Yeah, that she does! And she has the patience of a fucking saint!"

Out of a need for normality, I click the button.

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	4. Chapter 4

**~Chapter 3~**

**Written by Whiti**

**Reference to _Good Vs. Evil_ and _Bed and Breakfast_.**

I have the perfect house to show Bella and Edward, third time's a charm as they say.

I reach for my phone to organize the viewing. _Though, on second thought, maybe I should check it out first? _In the back of my mind, I'm thinking about the other houses we've visited and what disasters they were. I'm really not sure when the Evil-Good's patience will wane.

This place was originally a bed and breakfast, so plenty big enough for the whole Evil-Good family. It's situated off the beaten track and secluded, which is high on their pre-requisites.

I'm feeling all tingly just thinking about the commission I can make on this sale.

Edward, the owner, is going to meet me. _You know, that's so strange, Edward's such an old uncommon name and yet I'll have met two in a very short amount of time._

Edward answers the doorbell, and I'm blown away. _What is it with all these sexy men?_ I can feel myself already getting wet just by looking at him.

He's such a gentleman, showing me around his fabulous house. First, the huge kitchen, with marble countertops. I slide my finger along the marble, it's hard and smooth. _What I wouldn't give to have Edward slam me against it and have his way with me. _Oops, my panties would be dripping by now, if I actually wore any, instead it's slowing leaking down my inner thigh.

"Ms. Komma… Ms. Komma? I thought we'd lost you there for a moment." _Whoops._ Edward's words bring me out of my fantasy as I try to focus on the tour, rubbing my legs together, to quell the moisture. Next up the master bedroom, _fuck me, that doesn't help me focus at all. _

We move on and he shows me four guest rooms which are decorated very strangely. It's as if they were drawn from that vampire novel all the young ones are crazy about these days. _I'm thinking the Evil-Goods will want to redecorate these for their four Angels, but who knows, they might like them as they are a little weird themselves._

I can seriously feel this sale, I'm sure this is the house that will get me over the line.

Edward tells me about the attic and has just started to show me around outside, when I see something in the distance that looks like a family plot. _That's a little creepy, buying a house where others' loved ones are lying at rest in your back yard. I really hope that's not a deal breaker._

Oh good Lord, I swear I just saw the weirdest thing: two very strange-looking people humping one another on one of the gravesites. Another No Sale… there is no way they would want to buy this house and have their precious angels' minds corrupted by that sordid image.

_Fuck, this sale is harder than I thought it was going to be._ Back to the drawing board and my stress relieving clicking.

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	5. Chapter 5

**~Chapter 4~**

**Written by Ladyeire Author**

**References to _Good vs. Evil_ and _Fatty_**

"Ms. Komma, I've got a good feeling about this." I watch through the rearview mirror as Mrs. Evil-Good nods and smiles. She's the picture of perfection with her alabaster skin and shimmery mahogany hair.

Plastering on my biggest and brightest realtor's smile, I meet her eyes through that little bit of mirror and say, "So do I! The listing reads like a dream."

_Please don't let it be a nightmare._

My prayers are answered, it seems, when we pull into the drive of a well-kept little house. It's plain, without much landscaping, but it's clean and I send up another little prayer to the Big Man under my breath that it's free of any weird people doing unspeakable things on hidden tombstones.

"You know, you should really pray to one of the Saints if you want to get something accomplished. Daddy's got his hands full with the kids."

_What the FUCK?_

"Come again?"

"Your little prayer? You'd totally get more answered if you went with someone like Saint Joseph. With this recession, he's seriously slow."

_This couple, beautiful or not, is seriously strange. _

"Jesus effing Christ." The whispered curse is smothered behind my hands. It's either that or I laugh like I'm losing my mind.

"Yes?"

My eyes flash again to the rearview mirror to see a smiling missus waiting for me to address her. _So_ _fucking weird._

"Let's go on in and have a look around to see if it fits your needs, shall we?"

A short walk later and we're going through the front door. I specifically requested that the person selling be absent to avoid anything like our first home viewing. Ushering them both into the small foyer, I turn to the left, only to be confronted by a wall of curio cabinets in what I'd assume would be a dining room.

Mr. Evil-Good nearly trips on a collection of muddied running shoes beside the door to get to the glass cases.

"Bella! They've got every fucking action figure from the original Star Wars… in the boxes!"

The mister is seriously geeking out over some spot lit, still in the box, action figures that my little nephew has in pieces in his toy box.

This makes me smile.

_Good to know he's not perfect after all. It makes me feel better about the men I date._

"It says here, that there are only three bedrooms, but it's on a nice plot of land so I'm sure you could build out to suit your needs."

I've no sooner got part of my sales pitch out before I hear another manly squeal. "Look at this shit!"

Following the voice, Mrs. Evil-Good and I walk into the living room to see her hot half sitting in a desk chair and messing around with some sophisticated computer equipment. Upon closer inspection, I notice he's playing a violent video game with all the enthusiasm of a pimple faced teen rubbing one out.

Big grin firmly in place, he turns to his wife. "The only thing my father got right was this shit, babe."

"Does your father own a video gaming company?"

"Yeah, among other things. Father's got a hand in just about everything violent."

"Erm, good for him? Probably makes a lot of money off those games." My head shakes without thought as I wait for his wife to dislodge him from the desk so that I can show them around the remainder of the house.

Upstairs we hit a snag, when we encounter just one bathroom that smells of sweaty socks and ass.

"I realize that with four daughters you're going to need at least two more bathrooms and a major overhaul to this one." Waving my hand under my nose, I continue, "Besides, there's plenty of room to the sides and back of your property, as I've said, to add on. Did I mention that there's an incredible park nearby and some beautiful walking trails? It really is a picturesque little home."

We beat a hasty retreat out of the small bathroom. Mr. Evil-Good is making gagging noises and Mrs. Evil-Good forges on to check out the three rooms. I put my hand in my pocket to grip my precious… just in case.

"He's got a rather large appreciation for naked women and exercise equipment."

When I find her, in the master bedroom, she's on her hands and knees and looking through various DVD cases and a few magazines that were clearly hidden from prying eyes on purpose.

"Yeah, and a lack of appreciation for fucking cleanliness." The mister picks up a rag near the pile of porn and turns it this way and that before sniffing it. When he throws it back to the ground with a disgusted "hmph", it doesn't fall into a heap, but rather stands proud, forming a rough pyramid. "That shit's not right. He could give himself an infection reusing the same rag every time," he mutters.

"What was that, babe?" Mrs. Evil-Good has moved from the uncovered naughty under the bed, to the closet. "How many people did you say lived here, Ms. Komma?"

"Just one, I believe. He's selling because he and his girlfriend just bought a house to live in together."

"Looks to me like he's gonna have his hands full if this book is anything to go by."

I look over just in time to see him rifling through what looks like a private journal and I sigh.

_Is nothing sacred to these people? Clickclickclick… I can already hear the current owner's complaint about his stuff being rifled through._

"I'm not sure you should be reading that, sir. I think it's meant to be private."

He shrugs and closes the bound pages with a thump. "Then it shouldn't have been out for anyone to look through. If you're going to air your personal demons in written form, then you should do what my dad does, and burn them once you're done." His smile is blinding and a little bit unnerving.

Fucking crazies, I tell you.

"Why were you asking about the number of people living here, Mrs. Evil-Good?"

Chewing her lip thoughtfully, the missus pokes her head out of the closet. "There are just so many different sizes in here. It looks as though he either likes to play dress up, or he's a possible hoarder." Her last words are whispered, making it seem as though that would be a major sin.

All I have left is a shrug, because in all my time on the job, I've never seen anyone quite so…nosy.

"It is a sweet home though, and with very good vibes. I feel loads lighter here than I did in the other places, but I really was hoping for something a bit...larger. What do you think, Edward?"

The look he gives her would melt the iron panties off an oversized opera singer.

"Babe, you know anything's a step up from the Hell I lived in before. I think it's doable. Some disinfectant for the bathroom and a few well-placed bowls of potpourri. It's definitely doable." He kicks a large duffle bag as he speaks and the smell of ass and sweat wafts through the air again. "With your dad's help, we could coerce some real angels to help us make this place just the right size even."

"If you're sure?"

His responding nod and wink seems to relay more than his surety in his plan and it makes me blush.

"Okay then. Moving on!" I walk them back downstairs and through the kitchen. When I start pointing out the stainless steel appliances, Mrs. Nosy strikes again. She opens the fridge and freezer with the mister looking over her shoulder.

"Smart Dogs? Those things taste like brimstone and cardboard. Why would you willingly eat that shit?"

A quick throat clearing has them back on track and following me to the back door. "You have a decent backyard with plenty of shade and a nice patio."

Just as I open the door, Mr. Evil-Good barrels through and walks outside. I'm sidling up beside him when he takes a deep breath and I have to admit that it's the hottest thing I've heard…maybe ever. _Who knew a deep breath could be sexy?_

My eyes flit to his profile. He makes crazy look so damn good. His strong, confident jaw outlines a face that could make angels weep.

"Oh, it does…make angels weep, that is. Just yesterday he made a whole choir of Cherubim cry for two hours and all he did was yawn!" Mrs. Evil-Good's bell like voice responds to my thoughts, only I wasn't just thinking them.

Fuck me and my inability to keep my verbal filter active. I just said that out loud…again.

I resist the urge to laugh loudly and turn to see a completely serious looking missus behind me. She has got to be the strangest woman I've ever encountered.

"What the fuck?" doesn't seem to encompass my thoughts about this couple any longer. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't find a nice sanatorium to show to them next.

Shaking my head for the millionth time since agreeing to help these two, I am surprised when I don't hear rattling between my ears. I take stock of everything around me and notice Mr. Jaw Porn has walked into the yard with a very big smile.

And then the smile falters and is replaced by girlish sounding screams and manly words.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! GET'EM OFF ME! GET THE FUCKERS OFF MEEEEEEEEE!"

The weird chick he's married to runs past me like her ass is on fire. Her hands start swatting at her husband from his waist down and I'm half sorry I'm not asked to help. I'd gladly swat the crazy man's groin.

Once he's stopped jumping around, in what looks like a well-rehearsed dance to loosen hot coals from his tighty whiteys, I regain my composure and open my mouth.

"Is there something I can do?"

The moment Mr. Evil-Good looks up at me I swear I see fire in his eyes. Not the smoldering, 'I want to screw you seven ways to Sunday', sort of fire either. I mean the kind that leaves blisters and burns down homes. It's almost scary.

"Get us the fuck outta here!" He stomps by me, shuddering and mumbling curses under his breath about "Satan" and his "fucking father" and "had to be spiders". None of it makes sense to me.

"He has a very bad case of arachnophobia. The jumping spiders in the yard were a bit much for him to handle."

"The jumping…what?"

"Spiders. Jumping spiders. All over. So many of them." Her eyes go unfocused, as though she's remembering something particularly bad, and then she shudders. "It's probably best if you take us to our car now. He's going to want to shower immediately."

I nod dumbly and try very hard not to picture her husband wet and naked.

Too late. Mmmmmm, naked Mr. Hottie Jaw Porn.

"Don't worry, Ms. Komma. You're not the first, and you won't be the last, to wonder if he's as sinful naked as he is clothed."

Fuck my life. I need to make this sale before I lose my ever loving mind and my outstanding reputation!

_Just keep clicking…_

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	6. Chapter 6

**~Chapter 5~**

**Written by BellaEdwardlover1991**

**References to _Good vs Evil_ and _The Curse of the Swan_**

The next house I show them has to be a winner. It's big with enough bedrooms for all four little angels, a big kitchen and a basement big enough for a big mancave, which is always a plus. The lovely garden, with freshly grown herbs, might be interesting to Mrs. Evil-Good since generally, women like to cook with that stuff.

I am getting a headache here – so far no house has appealed enough to Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good. Normally people aren't this hard to please; this sure is the hardest sale I've ever had to do, and the most button clicking I've done since starting at Ellipsis. But, _I want that commission! _

This has to be it, it _has _to be.

I don't want to use the clicker this time. No clicking. Just...cool, calm and collected.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good, if you will follow me please," I say, my tone not as cheerful as before. I have kind of lost my cheerfulness along the way with these picky people.

I lead them into the house thinking to myself, _Dear God, please let this be the one they want!_

I turn around and try to joke, "I prayed to the Lord that this will be the one!"

Mrs. Evil-Good smiles. "I don't think my Father can help out with this, if he wanted to, he would've done so ages ago."

I sigh. _Seriously not understanding these people. They're so weird!_

My thumb hovers over the click-button, but no. Cool, calm, collected.

I send Mrs. Evil-Good into the garden, telling her to check out the lovely oasis where she can find her fresh herbs, and perhaps, picture her kids play there. _Now I have Mr. Hottie alone!_

I feel my panties practically dripping, but Holy Hell, he is so hot! I give him my winning smile as I show him the upper floors, where the bedrooms are.

I know I'm not a bad-looking woman at all, I'm no Victoria's Secret model but hey, hardly anyone is. Yet, this guy barely even looks at me, totally focusing on the house.

Disappointed – all the other hot men I've had alone like this were at least flirting with me – I lead him back downstairs, where we meet up with Mrs. Evil-Good.

I lead them down to the basement, where Mrs. Evil-Good freezes up immediately.

"Bella? What's wrong?" Mr. Hottie is immediately by her side, concerned.

She stares into space for a little while before she comes back to Earth. "Witchcraft," she spits out.

Mr. Hottie smiles. "Alright then. Do you have more houses to show us?" he asks, turning towards me.

"Um… Perhaps. But what is wrong with this one?" I dare to ask, getting the box ready.

"Witches lived here before, the energy is still lingering, especially in this basement. Her Father disagrees with that, so this is not the house for us."

_Click..._

Ugh. These are the pickiest people I've ever met. Who cares if witches lived in a house before? That doesn't automatically mean the damn house is cursed.

I don't know what to do anymore. Argh!

Cool, calm and collected?

Fuck that.

_Click, click, click, click!_

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**Yes...I'm posting all 12 chapters today.**

**I had to guess which author wrote each chapter. I totally sucked at it...seriously.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**~Chapter 6~**

**Written by bornonhalloween**

**Based on _Finally_**

I have a good feeling about today's showing.

If the listing sheet bears any semblance to reality, I'll have the Evil-Good's offer signed before my flax seeds kick in. And my best friend, Mr. Discover Card and I will be racking up the points at Adam & Eve before you can say, 'There's no place like my G-spot.' Just the thought of firing up that new Rabbit I've had my eye on brings a flush to my cheeks.

Luckily, my clients are in their own world where mere mortals treadeth not, and my arousal level is the farthest thing from their minds.

"So what do you think?" I ask hopefully, peering in my rear-view mirror as my clients scan the listing sheet between them in the back seat of my Suburban.

Bella's playing it cool, but I can tell she's all over this one. "Hmmm, the school bus stop is right at the end of the driveway, so I won't have to walk too far on a rainy day."

Her husband elbows her, "As if you don't walk on water, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes and pretend not to hear their lovey-dovey talk. "Pretend" being the operative word. Katherine Komma didn't get voted 'Queen of the Closers' five years running by giving clients more than the illusion of privacy.

_So when Mister Hottie McBadBoy mentions that he can't wait to see the sauna, I make a gigantic mental note…SAUNA…check! Yep, because my mental notes come complete with ellipses._

***o*O*o***

We roll up in front of the house, and I cut the engine. Spinning in my seat, I pass along the very strange advice that the listing broker had given me late last night when I made the appointment. "Now, I just want you to remember that this is the in-law house, and the son and his wife live next door. Apparently," and this is where the story becomes really fuzzy, "the father-in-law and the wife…or sometimes it's the mother-in-law and the wife…"

They look at me expectantly. I scratch my head. How to explain? "Jesus."

"Hmmm?" Bella answers.

"What?" I respond.

"Honey," Edward says, "you're doing that…thing…again?"

"Oh yeah," she answers swiftly. "Sorry."

Damn these two are bizarre. If not for the commission…ah yes, the commission. "So, as I was saying, the in-laws are selling their house and moving to Miami. Well, the daughter-in-law and the…never mind. Let's just see if they're home."

***o*O*o***

"You can see that the grounds are immaculate," I point out. "Turns out the husband has quite the high standards," I say, adding a conspiratorial wink. "Not a blade of grass out of place." _Sure, he's the ideal homeowner, from the realtor's perspective, but as a husband or a father? No effing thank you._

Perfect colonials line the street like girls in a prom photo- each facade screaming to be noticed above her peers, yet not daring to be different enough to risk not fitting in. Distinguished only by slightly differing shades of the same grays, whites and yellows, the clapboards nonetheless broadcast how well-loved each is by its owner by how recent that last coat of stain was applied. White picket fences abound, and I wonder how well my clients would assimilate to this seemingly perfect slice of suburbia. Somehow, they just don't seem the white picket fence types. Well maybe she is, but the husband? _Sinful._

The three of us reach the front stoop. I lean in to press the bell, and the opening refrain from "We Are Family" rings out from the speakers. Ah, good old American values. I'll be surprised if the missus doesn't pull out a freshly-baked apple pie from the oven.

Bella takes her husband's hand in hers and smiles brilliantly. "Oh darling, listen. I can feel so much love coming from this house! This is gonna be it, I just know it is!"

Edward smiles back at her, but it's not whole-hearted. His ears prick up at the wail of a young child inside. Edward turns to me and asks, "How old did you say this couple was?" His direct glare feels like the hot wave of air you get when you step out of your air-conditioned car on a scorching hot day.

"Oh, uh…" I consult my notes. "Says here they're in their sixties."

He narrows his eyes at me and says, "Let me guess. Another immaculate conception?"

"What? Oh no…it must be the daughter-in-law visiting from next door with the baby. They're all very close."

Bella squeezes his hand and squeals, "Told ya so!"

"Whatever," Edward mumbles under his breath.

_Come on, come on, already. I called ahead. Answer the door._ I ready my finger over the black button… _Answer the goddamn—_

The large mahogany door is pulled away.

Fucking FINALLY.

***o*O*o***

"Hello," I say. "My name is Katherine Komma, and I'm with Ellipsis Real Estate. Is Mr., or Mrs. Cullen home?"

"I'm Mrs. Cullen," she answers, bouncing the fussy newborn in her arms.

"Mrs. Esme Cullen?" I press.

"Oh, no. That's my... um... mother-in-law," she answers, her cheeks flaming up with a sudden blush.

"And who's this little child?" my client asks, stepping around my body to offer the baby her finger. The baby sucks in her digit up to the first knuckle and instantly calms.

The woman answers, "Oh, this is Sarah Avery Grace Jasper."

"Your baby has four names?" Edward pipes in, before his wife elbows him in the side and looks at him crossly. Sure, he's hot as sin, but sometimes that man has a forked tongue he just can't quite manage to control.

She ignores his question and addresses me. "Yeah, well, my in-laws aren't here right now, but they did tell me you'd be stopping by, so if you want to look around, feel free."

"Thank you. I'll just give them a tour." She steps out of our way, and I walk my clients through the living room, stopping to admire and point out the hand-crocheted curtains on the way to the kitchen.

"Whoa, what in God's name is _that_?" Edward asks, pointing to a large framed photo on the wall beside the kitchen dinette.

"Honey," Bella chastises again. "Remember we're working on taking the Lord's name in vain?"

"Sorry, it's just... I mean, the likeness is uncanny, babe. It's clearly US! How did she get this picture? And what are we DOING here? I don't remember ever doing it quite in that position before! And what is that thing between your legs? Is that… oh my God—GOSH—oh my GOSH, is that a… _WOOKY_?"

Bella steps closer. "Hmmm, yes, it's definitely a wooky. But this isn't us. It's a manipulated photo. Look here, you don't have a tattoo right there. Now just relax, you're gonna get your blood pressure up again and I didn't bring your pills with me."

"Actually, I do feel a little bit ill suddenly..."

_Oh shit, Edward's gonna hurl._ Thinking quickly, I drag him over to the potted palm tree in the corner. "Quick, Edward, erf in here."

I try not to watch as Edward blows huge, smelly, vile chucks into the soil. His wife moves swiftly to his side and rubs soothing circles onto his back until he finishes. Swiping his forearm across his mouth, he briefly looks at me and says, "Sorry. That was super gross."

"Let me go get you a towel, Sweetheart," Bella says, passing through the kitchen and into the powder room by the front entrance.

In all my years as a realtor, I cannot say a client has ever barfed in a prospective seller's home before. I'm quite at a loss. Stepping as close as I can, without inhaling his caustic post-vomit scent, I ask quietly, "What do you think we should do with this plant?"

Edward shrugs his shoulders and returns my question with one of his own. "What Would BELLA Do?"

_How the hell am I supposed to know? And what is she, the ultimate maven of right and wrong? Doesn't this dude have a moral compass of his own?_

I make an executive decision to take the whole damn plant outside and leave it on the patio. I slide open the glass door and walk outside with the container, trying to avoid looking at the chunky bile-colored mixture.

Turning my head away from the soiled soil to take a deep cleansing breath, I reach my hand into my pocket and locate my clicker. If ever there were a time for it, I'd say that mid-tour hurling would definitely qualify. I press the button until my nerves calm and my heart rate slows to normal. I'm not exactly in my marathon training day's resting heart rate zone, but for a girl my age, with my stress level at work, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn fine.

My musing is interrupted by arguing coming from next door. And the voices are headed our way!

"And what the hell am I supposed to tell our friends when my daughter-in-law _and _my wife disappear at the same time?" the older gentleman yells as he steps closer to the man who must be his son.

"What the hell am _I _supposed to tell our friends when my daughter-in-law _and _my husband disappear at the same time?" the graying woman yells as she steps closer to the man who must be her husband.

I didn't think it was possible, but this family appears even more complicated and messed up than my clients, and that is saying a lot. I have to wrap things up inside before this group of crazies messes up my mansion-moving mojo.

As I glide the glass slider shut behind me and rinse my hands in the sink, I warn, "I think the rest of the family is back now. If you want to see the bedrooms, we should probably head up there quickly. It's always uncomfortable for the sellers to know that strangers are in their bedroom."

Edward and Bella turn to me from where they're huddled together at the table. "I'm afraid my husband is running a fever," Bella says. "I need to get him home."

Poor Edward is red in the face and perspiration beads up all along his forehead. "You do look extremely hot," I add, then bite my lip really fucking hard. Bella rolls her eyes at me and I shrug helplessly. _Seriously, lady, when you're married to that, you just have to get used to it._

"Come on," I say, once I trust myself not to say something else completely asinine. "Let's get out of here."

We sashay quickly back through the living room and make it through the front door just as the threesome from next door arrives. "Oh, hello," I say awkwardly. "I'm Katherine Komma from Ellipsis Real Estate, and these are the Evil-Goods."

"I'm Edward, and this is my father, Carlisle."

"Very funny, Edward. I'm obviously the son—Carlisle."

_What in the name of ever loving Christ_? My head is spinning. I make an emergency dive for the clicker and press continuously until the two men shut up. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.

Thankfully there's only one woman present and she doesn't seem to be confused as to who she is.

"I'm Esme. And you already met our grandchild?"

All eyes turn to the sweet baby now sound asleep in its mother's arms. And every eye also takes in the line of white spittle gracing the mother's chest.

Without hesitation, my client, clearly a glutton for punishment, swipes up the residue on her fingertip, mumbling, "Oh, dear. You seem to have a drabble…"

"Did you say 'a drabble'?" I repeat the strange word. "Doesn't that have something to do with verbal warfare?"

"Sorry." Her husband pales at the sight of the spit-up on his wife's finger, and rushes outside to throw up again on the front lawn.

"Nice meeting you," Bella smiles pleasantly, pushing outside to tend to Edward. "Meet you at the car, KK?"

_Huh? I've got a nickname now? I suppose vomit does breed a certain level of familiarity._

"Well, thank you all," I say in closing, backing out the door.

Sigh. I guess I'll have to settle for one of my old toys tonight. Looks like that commission will just have to wait.

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	8. Chapter 8

**~Chapter 7~**

**Written by texasbella**

**References to _The Last_ and _Search and Rescue_**

Sitting at my computer, I'm going through the MLS listings yet again. The Evil-Good's are due here in an hour and I need to have something to show them. The options are continuing to dwindle as this is a small town and there just aren't that many properties set up to accommodate a large family.

The black box silently beckons me as it sits, unassumedly, on the desk._ Can I get through today without pushing the button?_

I have been giving this sale my all; truly, I think I've had the patience of Job in this endeavor. _Surely I should be entitled to a reward soon?_

In the form of "we'll take it."

My order with Adam & Eve is ready to go, it's sitting in 'my shopping cart' just waiting for me to 'go to checkout'. Admittedly, that order gets bigger every time a showing falls through and I come home and browse the site with longing, while fingering the box. _click. click. click._

_Back to business, KK!_ I scold myself, giggling a little at the nickname Scorcher gave me.

Too small.

Too many neighbors.

Enough square footage, but not enough bathrooms.

I click through the listings, and click on the box, the unseen clock ticking on when the shopping cart will cancel out and I'll have to start it all over.

A new listing catches my eye. It's unconventional; normally I'd avoid showing this property like I'd avoid a party of vampires with a paper cut. _But have I mentioned that the options are running out... perhaps unconventional is what this sale needs?_

I print out the spec sheets, plug the coordinates into my GPS and sit back and wait for Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good to arrive. Surely today will be the day!

I even give the button a push for good luck.

***o*O*o***

The road, if you can call it that, to the house is bumpy and overgrown. I kind of feel like that girl in Blair Witch, heading out into the woods.

Another slap sound, followed by a scream and then sobbing, erupts from the back of my Suburban. Seems dear old dad wasn't available to watch their four little angels today, so they are joining us.

_Angels my ass. More like demon spawn if you ask me. Click._

"Ms. Komma, I'd appreciate you keeping your negativity to yourself. We have already apologized profusely about being unable to make alternate plans today." Scorcher snickers and the missus slaps his arm.

"It's your dad's fault that my dad couldn't watch them today. Always stirring up hurricanes and causing earthquakes like it's some kind of a game," Mrs. Evil-Good snarks at him as she crosses her arms over her chest and flops against the seat.

"Aww, babe, don't be like that," Scorcher says before he leans in and whispers in her ear. The car gets warmer as I notice her cheeks flush over. _What in the hell is he saying to her? My finger is now rubbing across the button of its own accord._

Her eyes meet mine in the rearview and she grins knowingly.

We finally arrive at the location and as I put the car in park, the girls tumble out of the back. They take off running as Scorcher calls after them not to go too far.

I take a deep breath to begin. "Okay, so this one is a little um, different..."

"There's nothing here but land and scorched trees!" Mrs. Evil-Good cuts me off. I stay calm and raise my hand up to quiet her, the weight of the little box in my pocket comforting me.

"I realize that is how it appears, but if you'll follow me." I glance down at the spec sheet to double check the directions. Looking up, my eyes scan the clearing, looking for the marker. "Ahh, here we go," I say as I take a few paces towards the right.

I come to a stop when the ground makes a hollow sound under our feet. Using my shoe, I kick aside the dirt and leaves to reveal a hidden door into the ground. Scorcher jumps forward.

"Allow me!" He lifts the door up and tosses it back, revealing a stairwell that leads down into the ground. "Sweet! You found an underground house?" he says excitedly and my hopes rise.

"Girls! Come check this out!" he cries as he runs down the stairs, the girls right behind him, leaving the missus and myself standing at the top in some kind of showdown, and my hopes fall.

"Ms. Komma, Katherine, I'm sorry if I didn't make this clear before, but I cannot and will not live under the ground. I need open spaces and the higher the better, I need to be close to the Father after all," she explains.

_Are those cobwebs growing between my legs? Click._

Just then the girls come barreling back up the stairs with Scorcher a few steps behind. The girls have some old unlabeled cans in their hands and are obviously excited about their finds.

"Are you coming down to look, dear?" Scorcher asks his wife. She just glares at him.

"I can smell the stench from here, Edward... it's like a crypt or something." She turns to me. "Did someone die down there?"

"Erm, not that I know of Mrs. Evil-Good, but I'm happy to keep looking."

Click. _God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change._

Click. _Courage to change the things I can._

Click. _And the wisdom to know when I'm a complete fool for even thinking I can._

_Yep, definitely cobwebs,_ I think as we hike back to the car and my thumb finds the well-worn button... repeatedly.

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	9. Chapter 9

**~Chapter 8~**

**Written by reyes139**

**Reference: _The Bakery_ and a few swipes at others**

"Excuse me, Miss KK, but can we stop and eat something, sometime within the next Armageddon and now...we've been at this all morning?" His devilish lips seduce me with his sinful melody, yet his eyes are spitting fire as Mrs. Evil-Good complains yet again. Her arms are wrapped around her stomach, while she claims to ask God for a pond to fish in.

_We're just starting and I know the box will be seeing more action than me today. Fuck my life._

I think the saying goes, that if looks could kill, I would be ten feet under...not true, one blazing look from this man and the urge to bow and plead you're loyalty and body, is all that comes to mind.

"Well," I begin with as much confidence as I can muster...this man and his little lamb are just too intimidating. "There is an amazing bakery just up the road...this place was extremely popular with the local residents a few months back...you could say they were loyal fans of the Creator."

"How good are we talking about? Perhaps devilishly orgasmic?" Mr. Evil-Good asks, while his wife begins to foam at the mouth at the small mention of chocolate in every sinful way you can imagine.

"I would venture to say the appropriate word to describe it is _orgasmic_…It's a real shame that the previous owners left...wanting to explore their new found relationship. Residents claim that business boomed for him after the owner found himself a girl whose goodies brought all the townies to the yard."

"No shit..." they say in unison and while he laughs at her slip, she prays for forgiveness from her Daddy G...I am seriously contemplating abandoning this search and turning them over to my partner, Kit.

"Yes, shit," I reply and pray for the crazy lady to go away...maybe leaving me with her sexy devil of a husband as payment for all my pain and suffering, down below.

"Don't count on that prayer being answered, you heathen...now, stop coveting what's rightfully mine and get me some gosh darn-it food!"

"Good save there, babe."

"Thanks."

_Weirdos..._

Bella looks ready to kill my house hunting ass by the end of that small rant, but the mention of heavenly treats, and me being their one and only map to this town...brings her holy PMSing down a notch or two.

"Well...what the H.E.L.L. are ya waiting for woman? Lead the way." _Was spelling that out really necessary?_

_What the hell is so hard about saying hell? Jesus!_

"Yes?"

"Um...I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Will you two shut it? KK stop arguing with her Holiness and lead the way...you do not want her wrath unleashed upon you. Moses had it easy compared to what will be rained on you...your ass will be grass by the time she's through with you...literally."

Turning around without another word, I lead them down the road from the Key Party Lodge, towards From My Window Lane.

The streets close to the decadent shop are bustling with fatty's of all ages, all running in full gear, practicing for the upcoming Marathon held every year around this time.

Their coach is a goddess of a woman, with long flowing brown hair and an ass you could literally bounce a roll of quarters off of.

"Scorching, just the way I like em'," mumbles Edward.

_SWACK. _I click the button in a knee jerk reaction to the sound.

"What the fuck woman?" He glares at his personal Angel while all he gets is the same glare in return.

"Keep your eyes on me Anti, not the ex-fatty whore's ass." _Who claimed this woman was all love and innocence?_

"Wish he would stare at me like that," I mutter lowly...thinking I won't be heard.

Big mistake.

I barely have time to duck the holy fist of furry that flies towards my head...she is pissed and wanting me to burn in the fiery pits of hell for my words.

"Won't your father take her baby? I'm sure he would see it as a peace offering for not leaving the girl with him...it would be a win _win_." Edward chuckles and I blanch..._are they going to sell me?_

_Oh hells no, not after everything I've put up with today, these bitches owe me a hefty commission God dammit. _Click. Click.

"Don't use my father's name in vain, bitch." Cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick.

_Jesus, what is she talking about?_ My creep-o-meter is going through the roof with all this devil, God and holy talk.

_Are they part of a cult?_

"Watch it KK, she might have a saintly disposition, but she will cut a bitch, if you touch what's hers."

"Stop milking it, buddy."

I refuse to say another word to the insane pair and let them be. The walk is a short one and much needed as I try to clear my head and figure out what the fuck to do.

_There are still a few more properties I can show...I am the MVP of realtor's, after all, dammit._

_I can do this._

Suddenly I feel renewed and ready to sell.

"Is this the place?" his devilish lips ask. His wife on the other hand, giggles as she reads the sign.

"Unbelievable... really? Devil's Fork Bakery? Can't these people be any less original?"

"I think it's quite fitting, your Holiness."

_Like I said…weirdo's._

***o*O*o***

Upon entering, all three of our stomachs rumble obnoxiously loud. Bella looks quite possessed and Edward looks ready to pounce on the first morsel of sinful cake that comes our way.

"Welcome to Devil's Fork…I'm Alice," the exuberant, yet tired, woman manning the front counter says. She looks quite familiar to me…I just can't place from where.

"Do I know you?" She looks quite taken aback by my question…why, I have no clue, but I feel a certain pull towards this fiery red headed persona.

"Well, you should…it's all thanks to you that I ended up enslaved to this bakery."

"My fault…but how…why?"

"Look lady, and KK, could you do the whole 'I know you but don't remember you' dance later? We have been hearing nothing but indecent things about your desserts and we're both going rabid with hunger over here." _God, that man's voice is decadently sexual…what wouldn't I do to keep him._

"Listen KK, Katherine, or whatever else you call yourself these days…if you use me, or my Father's name, while sinning again, it will be on like Donkey Kong…got it?" I nod stiffly, deathly afraid to upset the beautiful woman again or embarrass myself further by speaking out loud.

The gorgeous god next to her laughs quite loudly at our exchange, causing every woman in the room to gasp…the sound just too beautiful to be ignored.

"What?" he says while giving his wife a sinful grin.

_Jesus, that smirk is hot._

"One more lady, I'm officially warning you!"

"Okay…how about I dish out today's special and we all calm down?"

"Please the wacko and her minion, answer."

"Grrrr."

"Calm down, sweetie…you wouldn't be the person you are if you attack. Remember love, peace and forgiveness." She nods and begins to do this weird breathing exercise.

"Your Father would be so proud…that's right, just remember you turn the other cheek, not break theirs."

"Easier said than done, _Mi Angel Caido_."

"Love it when you speak in other languages…so sexy."

"Here you go," Alice gushes, while presenting them an extremely large tray, filled to the brim with treats. "We have Drunken Angel Cake, Fallen Angel Cookies, Devil's Cheese Cake and Devil's Nuts Brownies."

"This looks amazing," her Holiness claims through giggles, while her counterpart begins to dig in. His nimble fingers tear off a tiny morsel of brownie and he sexily begins to feed her…his long finger entering her mouth with each bite.

"Oh Anti," she moans while he growls, "Jesus."

Their eyes are solely for the other and each time a new flavor enters through their lips, they kiss, slowly tasting what the other has just swallowed. It is the most sexual experience of my life and from what I can tell of Red's demeanor, hers too. I may have absently been stroking my button, in fact, I'm pretty sure I am because I'm hearing muted 'clicks' from my pants.

"Oh fuck, the Fallen Angel is to die for…just don't tell your dad that."

"Fuck, no," Edward groans as she sucks his tongue into her mouth, "fucker doesn't need a bigger head."

"God, no."

"Jesus, are they hot to watch."

"I know, Red…I know."

They stay in their seats for about an hour… massacring the entire tray and the two cups of coffee Red offered about half way through their gluttony. Finally, after my panties are thoroughly ruined and they have had enough foreplay, we leave.

"Thanks for the naughty snack KK, I will be the bigger deity here today and forgive you for all your impure thoughts… just don't do it again… okay?" Bella says as she extends her hand, her fingers sticky when I grasp it. A shock travels down my arm and I swear the button clicks itself.

_Fucking sexy weirdos._

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	10. Chapter 10

**~Chapter 9~**

**Written by: Shell Shock**

**References _Chocolate Covered Kisses_**

This is it. I've finally found the perfect house for the Evil-Good's.

Five bedrooms, four baths, huge kitchen with lots of counter space for cooking and nice professional-grade ovens. Plus, the only reason the family is moving, is to downsize and be a bit closer to the heart of town where they have own their own business.

I've been burned one too many times in the past with the Evil-Goods, so I did my research this time. The sellers, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Cullen, own a chocolate store, 'Goût de Chocolat' in town and they've only been married a few years. They have a small daughter together and another that Edward, _(and seriously… how many Edwards are in this town anyway?)_ adopted when he and his wife married, even though the girl was already 18. The house is definitely for sale as I've called them twice to confirm.

I pick up my phone to call the Evil-Good's as I shuffle through some of the previous houses we've visited. Just as I hear the other line pick up, I slice my finger on the 'disappearing cottage' listing and can't stop myself from muttering, "_Christ, that hurt!"_ as a sharp pain burns in my finger.

An angelic little voice giggles on the other end, "Jesus or Anti?"

"Umm… what?" I question. _Do I have the right number?_ I check the number on my phone and confirm it's correct. _Of course, the children would be as odd as the parents._ "I mean, I'm sorry. May I please speak with your mom or dad?"

She giggles again. "Sure," she says before I hear the phone drop and her scream. "MOM! DAD! Someone is on the phone looking for Christ but she won't tell me which one!"

"I'll take it," I hear Bella call in the background. "I've been getting a lot more calls since I took down your Gdaddy Devil. People are finally starting to see the light, thank the good Lord!"

I swear I hear a deep, muffled, "You're welcome!" in the background as Bella picks up the phone. Needless to say, she is ecstatic about the new listing and we agree to meet there at nine the next morning. At least I'll be able to squeeze in a quick run this time before meeting them.

***o*O*o***

I arrive at the house at 9 AM sharp with the Evil-Good's pulling in directly behind me. I give the clicker several warm up clicks, knowing I'll likely need to start doing some kind of thumb exercises before getting out of my car to greet my clients. We offer our usual pleasantries while walking to the front door and I try to keep my eyes off of my H O T hot client. The wives don't usually like it when they think I'm hitting on their men.

I give the front door a quick knock even as I'm sticking the key in the slot to unlock it. The couple has promised they wouldn't be here so as not to make the potential buyers uncomfortable, but I always knock just in case.

As I'm opening the door I hear, "Jesus! Edward… They're here! I told you we didn't have time! Get off of me!"

Oh my goddess... They're here! Click click click.

I hear a deep, manly chuckle and the sexiest accent I've ever heard say, "Who cares, ma Belle. Let them see how much I adore you."

"No worries," Mr. Evil-Good pipes up as he begins to push through the door. "But please, call my wife Bella. She much prefers that while we're down here. Less conspicuous you know?"

I am utterly useless at this point. Mr. Evil-Good is staring at me as if I'm the crazy one and I'm trying my best to stay upright after hearing this man speak to his wife. His voice is like sex to my ears. It is rich and velvety with a thick French accent that makes me want to fall on my knees and worship him. As I gather my wits, I try to keep my clients from seeing anything untoward while still trying to get a glimpse of the action myself… _Oh please…like you wouldn't!_

Thankfully, the owners walk into the foyer from the direction of the kitchen and bring the smell of chocolate with them. It smells Heavenly and I don't waste any time telling them so.

"Actually," Bella chimes in, "Heaven has more of a catnip odor. It's my favorite. Dad changed it just for me after I saved the world. He's just the best Father a girl could ask for."

Everyone stares at Bella as if she's the second coming for a moment while we process this information. Except for Edward, of course, who smiles and wraps his arm tighter around his wife, while kissing her just below her ear. "And I'm so glad you did, baby. You were magnificent that day."

"Okay," I try to recover quickly as I look over to the sellers. "Why don't we look around the house and…"

I trail off as homeowner Edward comes into view. The man is absolutely gorgeous. Amazingly so. I'm starting to get a complex with all of these beautiful people in the room.

His hair is a mess of blond and red, molded into a faux Mohawk.

His shoulders are broad and sexy.

But it is his face that draws my eyes…

The entire left side of his face is covered in scars. It looks like he made it through unscathed, but his eyebrow is gone. Even as he pulls his lip up in a sneer, he is devastatingly handsome and I want nothing more than to run my hands up his chest, pulling his shirt with it, and slowly run my lips over every scar I can find.

I know I am staring… I know it, but I can't stop.

"I'm so sorry!" I finally begin babbling. "I don't know what is wrong with me lately. It's been a really, really weird past few days. This is mortifying."

"It's okay," his wife answers for him as he looks down at the ground, obviously trying to hide his face now. "If I could send the bitch that did this to him straight to Hell, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Edward, my Edward, I mean… my client Edward, chooses this moment to chime in and say, "I'll see what I can do for you, but I'm not really on speaking terms with my dad anymore. But he always likes increasing his minions down there. Ever since this one here saved me, more and more people are following her rules." He squeezes Bella again as she beams up at him, clearly in love.

I look back at the sellers and see Edward still looking at the ground, hiding his face. I feel awful and go to offer my apologies again when Bella begins to speak softly to him. "Ne pas s'irriter, bébé. Voyez-vous la façon dont elle vous regarde? Vous êtes tellement sexy qu'elle est pratiquement se déshabille vous avec ses yeux que nous parlons. En fait, si elle ne s'arrête pas à cette minute je ne sera pas tenu responsable pour ce que je fais pour son"

_Aaaand… now I'm getting a lady boner for the wife. Fuck. Was that French? So hot._

Edward glances in my direction, now with a small smile on his face, and then looks back to his wife. "Calme, Belle. Je crois qu'elle vous donne la même attention maintenant et je ne peux pas lui reprocher un peu. Sortons d'ici et se rendre à la boutique pour que nous puissions terminer ce que nous avons commencé, oui ? "

_Oh. My. UNF! I think my panties just spontaneously combusted. Maybe I should start bringing an extra pair with me when I show this couple around. Wait, what am I saying? Everyone knows I don't wear panties! So just my finger vibe then, so it'll fit in my pocket. _

Because what's hotter than Edward's wife speaking French? Edward himself.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, we'll be going now. Business to take care of, you know. Our apologies for not leaving before you got here." Edward grabs his wife's hand and starts pulling her towards the door.

I turn to apologize one more time before they leave and notice a rather large chocolate handprint on his wife's ass.

"I really am sorry, Sir," I begin, still mortified. "I'm not usually so uncouth. I have a cat that's been badly burned and I hate it when people gawk at her. Truth be told… the scars make you even hotter than you already are! I'm going to stop talking now. I think maybe I need a vacation."

"Ah, it is, no worries as you say." Edward smiles at me. "Please, feel free to help yourself to the freshly made chocolate truffles. I apologize again for not leaving in time."

"Umm…," my client, Edward, begins. "I'm not sure how to say this tactfully but you have a chocolate handprint on your ass."

"Mmm.. Yes, I'm aware," Edward's wife, Belle apparently, croons into his neck. "I think I'll leave it there for a while so everyone knows this man owns _me_… completely."

_Did she just side eye me?_ Click. _What the fuck?_ Click click._Sorry I ogled your man, lady, but you've seen him. And heard him. _

"Alright!" I say gathering myself… yet again. "Well, you two have a lovely day. Your home is beautiful and I'm sure the Evil-Good's are just dying to see it."

"Been there, done that," Edward and Bella chime in unison.

Clickclick. _Ok... I realize I'm using my clicker more as a stress ball now than for its intended purpose, but these people are so... Weird._

"Yes… well… right this way!" I say as cheerily as I can. "Let's check out this fabulous kitchen first."

I usher them away as Edward and his wife head out, laughing and speaking in French to one another. No doubt in anyone's mind what they are about to finish doing. _Lucky, lucky girl._

We continue through the rest of the house without further incident. There are pictures of the family up all over the house. Some appear to be taken in Paris. Several are of their chocolate store, with a young woman that looks remarkably like Bella standing with Edward proudly displaying their chocolate creations. There is a large family portrait over the fireplace of Edward, Belle and their two daughters.

I'm feeling really good about this sale, but of course as it turns out, the Evil-Goods decide not to buy the house.

Click.

_Of course not._ Click click.

Something about her dad not approving of all of the modern conveniences in the kitchen. Click click click.

_Is he Amish or something?_

Clickclickclickclick. _Ahh... That's better._

Guess we'll keep trying. I know of one house for sale not far from here, but I've been reluctant to show it because every time I drive by, a man is standing in the window, staring out at the street. It's just a little creepy if you ask me.

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* Bella: "Do not be angry, baby. You see how she looks at you? You are so sexy that it is practically undresses you with his eyes as we speak. In fact, if it does not stop at this moment I will not be held responsible for what I do for her "

*Edward: "Quiet, Beautiful. I think it gives you the same attention and now I can not blame him one bit. Leave here and go to the store so we can finish what we started, yes? "

**Gotta love google translate. Don't tell Alterite... :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**~Chapter Ten~**

**Written by: Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy**

**Reference: _From My Window_**

Today is the day. This is the day I **will** find them a house.

The Evil-Good's_ have_ to give up the ghost at some point. I know there's something out there for them.

Even though I'm a little weirded out by the lurker guy in the window, I think this could be the house for them. But, I've got my little rectangular stress box just in case.

It's truly a stunning home. I did some further research last night, and discovered that many additions and upgrades have been added in recent years. Ten years ago, when it was built, it started out as a 3-bedroom, 2-bath home. Now, it's listed as a 6-bedroom, 4.5-bath home.

_What in the name of God could have these people continuing to put more bedrooms in when they could just upgrade to something larger?_ Their house looks like a castle compared to the others that surround it.

It's no wonder that they're having a tough time selling. You can't ask for sixty thousand dollars more than any other house in the neighborhood, it's just not logical.

I've heard they've been through several realtors, who probably advised them of the price issues, but seeing now that they're listed as "For Sale By Owner", I guess they're just hoping for good luck on their own.

_May as well call them and ask if I can do a showing later today._

I pick up the phone and dial.

One ring…

Two rings…

Halfway through the third ring, I hear someone pick up… but am met with semi-silence on the end.

Semi-silence because nobody is specifically addressing me and acknowledging the phone call with your basic, "hello".

Instead, what I do hear is something akin to the floor at the New York Stock Exchange.

People are yelling, babies are screaming, and it sounds like the phone just fell down a flight of stairs.

What the—? Click.

**_"Will, give Daddy the phone." _**I hear a man shout.

**_"NO! I had it first! I wanna give it to Daddy!"_**

**_"Emma just—"_**

**_"NOOOOO!" _**a little girl shrills in the background.

**_"Wiiiiilll? Wiillll! Don't you do it! Don't you dare throw the phone in the potty!" _**_The father?_ I think it's the father. _Sure doesn't sound like he has much control, though._

**_"Just…just…" _**

**_"GRACIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" _**shouts a booming male voice.

I hear next what sounds like a WWF match, and then two, ear-piercing screams.

**_"Thank you, Grace. Now please go make sure that Will and Emma aren't bleeding, wouldja?"_**

**_"Okay, Daddy."_**

****"Hello?" a male voice shouts into the receiver.

"Uhh, yes, hello? Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes, this is Edward Cullen…could you just hang on a second?"

Before I can say, "Certainly, sir," I hear the phone drop and another shouting match begin. I give the box a thorough workout as I contemplate just hanging up. _Can you break a clicker?_

**_"YOU! You sit here until I tell you to get out of that chair, Will! And YOU, Emma, you are the big sister. Quit making him crazy. If he grabs the phone from you, it's not the end of the world. Do you know how many things he's stolen from me? You don't see me crying! Now. Both of you cry silently so I don't have to hear you. I have to finish changing Katie's pooper diaper and talk on the phone. I will tell you when you can come out of your room."_**

**_ *DOOR SLAM*_**

****"Hello? Still there?"

"Oh, yes, I'm here," I laugh, uncomfortably.

"Sorry about that. My wife's been gone all morning at a doctor's appointment and the kids have been staging a coup."

"I understand. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself yet. This is Katherine Komma, from Ellipses Real Estate. I have a young married couple who may be interested in your home. I was hoping to come by later this afternoon to show your house. Would that be alright?"

"Uhhh, yeah. How long do I have?" He asks, sounding slightly short of flustered.

"Can we come by at four?"

"Uhh, yeah, that gives me about six hours. I should be okay, I hope. Right now it looks like a tornado ripped through the house."

"Oh… uhhhh." I don't know what to say, so I just continue with my misplaced, nervous giggles, my finger sliding into the groove of the over used button.

"It's okay. We'll see you at four," he reinforces, steadily.

"Thank you sir, see you then." As I'm hanging up, I hear him start shouting again, hopefully not at me, but more than likely at the little ones who were causing the ruckus earlier.

***o*O*o***

"So you think this might be the place for us, Ms. Komma?" I hear Mr. Evil-Good ask from the back seat of the car.

I chuckle at his silliness.

_Do I hope so?_ Hell yes, I do.

_Do I think they're actually going to settle on it? No. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be showing houses to this couple until Kingdom come. And it doesn't seem too far off, to be frank. I'm going to have to ask Mr. Cullen, my boss, about new batteries for the complaint clicker._

With all their godly and hellish banter, I feel like I'm at the Republican National Convention or something. My liberal instincts want to flip the freak out…but it's weird, they don't seem politically derisive.

I still can't put my finger on it.

These two have been super-weird. Pretty much the two oddest people I've ever dealt with since I started in this business. I mean, they seem pretty cool in demeanor, all the while being very hot in physical appearance.

I don't know.

They're the coolest, hot weirdos I've ever met, that's for damn sure.

Every time I'm around them, the Katy Perry song, "Extra Terrestrial" comes to mind. I shrug to myself and then remember the mister asked me a question.

"Sorry, I spaced there for a second. Umm, yes, I would love to believe that this is the house for you. It's a little on the bigger side, but with all the talk of your children and future grandchildren and the legions of angels you mentioned you have over for dinner from time to time, I think a bigger space might be just what you're looking for!" I push, in my best sales tactics voice.

We pull into the driveway and walk to the door to ring the bell.

The front door opens and a man I presume to be Mr. Cullen greets us, wearing torn, paint splattered jeans and a white t-shirt with just as many colored speckles. He looks like a real-live Jackson Pollack work of art.

"Dad, I'm _telling_ you. I had a dream I was getting married to some girl named Athena! We were all a lot older. You had a bunch of gray hair and you were pissed 'cause Emma's boyfriend kept staring at mom all night!" I see a young boy talking Mr. Cullen's ear off.

"Hi Ms. Komma, Edward Cullen." Mr. Cullen shakes my hand. "Hello." He smiles and nods at the Evil-Good's. "Please, come in."

He steps aside cheerfully as we all settle into the foyer.

"Daaaaad!" The boy pulls on his arm.

"Cai! Enough, buddy. You can tell me about your dream later, okay? I need to do adult stuff now."

The little guy walks away in a huff with his arms crossed.

"First, let me apologize for my appearance. I had to throw another coat of paint on the windowsill and the wall below. Darn kids. They keep, uhhh… they keep attacking it with markers. And Magic Eraser only works up to a point. Then you end up taking layers of paint off with your constant scrubbing. My wife keeps telling them to stop doing it at the window… but uhhh, they're kids, y'know? They just don't listen… and uhh, yeah. So anyway, sorry about the paint smell. But I just wanted to spruce up the place for you."

He smiles nervously like he's been caught with his hand down his pants or something.

Creepy lurker guy.

He's freaking handsome as all hell. Almost as hot as Mr. Evil-Good.

"I'll leave you to it." Mr. Cullen shoots up the stairs to referee what sounds like the beginnings of another wrestling match.

For the next twenty minutes, we tour the Cullen's home.

The Evil-Good's are very impressed with all of the spacious bedrooms and the upgrades that have been put in. It's clear from the tour that the Cullen's are trying to be the next reality TV family, like "74 Kids and Counting" or something.

I counted four children's beds, one toddler bed and two cribs. They were organized and separated by gender throughout the five smaller bedrooms. The master bedroom at least looks like two adults can find their sanctuary in there. And with seven children, I'd imagine some meditation and deep breathing exercises are required to stay sane.

As we emerge from the basement, which looked like a children's fairy-tale land, I hear the front door slam and a female start shouting.

**"Well, I hope you're proud of yourself honey! You did it again! You knocked me up! I can't believe I've worked so hard to get the baby weight off from having the twins, and now I'm gonna have another freakin' kid!"**

"Honey."

**"No, seriously, Edward! You need to keep it in your pants, buster. We're getting twin beds like they had in the olden days on TV. Like from reruns of 'Leave it to Beaver' and stuff!"**

"Honeeeey," we hear Mr. Cullen reply, "it's your beaver that keeps getting us_ into_ these predicaments. I can't stay away! Like a moth to a flame, baby. In fact…"

I raise my eyebrows as I make eye contact with the Evil-Good's who are snickering to each other. I roll my eyes and smirk, joining in their giggles as we continue to overhear what started as a heated discussion between the Cullen's. Now that we've rounded the corner, and see them in an embrace though, I know it is the beginnings of another love-fest.

I clear my throat to announce our presence.

"Well, we're finished! I've left my card on your kitchen counter. We'll be giving you a call shortly with the offer!" I smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good think this is the house for them." I proudly declare.

"Oh!" Mr. Cullen starts chuckling with a sheepish look to his face. "Yeah, I think we're going to be taking the house back off the market…seems we have another precious package on the way." He beams, laying his hand across his wife's little belly.

They look at each other and start laughing at their happy news. And it _is_ happy... for them. But perhaps I can still convince them to relocate?

"Well congrats! I have some terrific listings of eight and nine bedroom homes along the sound if you're interested," I say, jumping on the chance of making a sale AND picking up new clients.

Mrs. Cullen crinkles her nose and looks up at her husband. He responds with, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

And as if they'd rehearsed it, the Cullen's simultaneously say to one another, "Third floor construction?"

And they burst into laughter again.

We all do, actually.

As the Evil-Good's congratulate the Cullen's and laugh at the circumstances, my laughter stems from anxiety and a borderline panic attack at the thought that I'll be stuck with the Evil-Good's forever, since our search for their perfect house continues to elude us.

_Ahhh, well._

This can't go on forever, right? I mean, seriously.

I'll remain cautiously optimistic.

We'll find the right house soon. It'll happen before the second coming, of that I'm sure.

_Of course, the damn box will definitely need to be replaced by then, not just the batteries. Click. Click. Click. Click. I'll make sure of it. Click click click._

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	12. Chapter 12

**~ Chapter 11 ~**

**By les16  
**

**Based on _Good vs. Evil _and_ Destiny_**

I throw my head down and bang it over and over again on my desk.

It's hopeless, utterly and completely hopeless.

I'm never going to find the Evil-Goods a house. Visions of my Adam and Eve order go up in smoke. God damn it, I really wanted that new Rabbit, too. I can't help but cringe when the curse word slips out and immediately I'm looking around, sure that Mrs. Evil-Good is hovering around somewhere ready to add another sin to my ever-growing list.

She's a real pain in the ass about taking the Lord's name in vain for some reason.

Such a weirdo.

Deciding that the universe really fucking owes me for having to deal with the Evil-Goods, I click the mouse one more time and bring up the MLS page and like manna from Heaven, there on my screen is the house. A brand new listing that I hope is the answer to all of my prayers. A huge three-story house set far back in the woods. No neighbors. Plenty of bedrooms for all the little devils err … angels. A rose garden, lots of natural light. It seems perfect.

It better be.

I really need that order from Adam and Eve.

Fucking finally.

I quickly print out all the details and put them in a new folder. This has to be the one. Has. To. I can't take much more of this. I mean, even the Devil himself couldn't stand much more of the duo from Hell. I call the number listed for the owners and am thrilled to find I'm the first one to call. The man that answers enthusiastically agrees to a showing in just an hour so I make a call to my clients who say they can meet me at the office right away. Folder in hand along with the ever-present little black box, I walk out of my office and out the front door of Ellipsis Real Estate to wait for Mr. Hottie and his goody-two-shoes wife.

"So, you have a good feeling about this one, do you, KK?" Mr. Sexy as Hell asks from the back seat of the Suburban as we drive toward the outskirts of town.

Mrs. Evil-Good hasn't so much as looked in my direction this morning, not that I mind, it's just odd. Usually she's so loving toward everyone. Of course it probably doesn't help that I keep imagining her husband laying me out on my desk and fucking me until I can't walk every day.

She sighs but doesn't look up from the magazine she's flipping through on her lap. I get a slight chill and shake my head, positive she knows what I just thought, but unsure how she could possibly know.

"Awww, babe, don't be like that," Mr. Evil-Good coos into her ear. His forked tongue flicks out and he licks up the side of her neck.

_Jesus H. Christ._

"Actually I don't have a middle name if you don't mind," she says primly and when she looks up, I gulp audibly.

Please let this be the house. I can't take much more of this.

The Mrs. snorts, Mr. smirks and I feel like I'm Noah when he was building the ark, just wanting to get the hell out of Dodge.

"Well, now, let me tell you about this house," I say in as sweet a voice as I can muster, ignoring the fact that my panties are uncomfortably wet. I go on and list all of the amenities that I remember seeing on the web page and give myself a silent fist bump when neither has any negative comments.

I totally ignore the little black box in the passenger seat beside me.

That Adam and Eve order is looking better and better.

We turn off the main road and bump along a long, winding driveway. _So far so good_, I think. We continue on and I hear snippets of conversation from the back.

"I don't know, babe, Father said we'd discuss it later."

"But, Bella," he says huskily and I swear his voice is like sin.

Mrs. Evil-Good raises an eyebrow and then says, "Well, I don't know about sin, but it's sure Heavenly."

The two giggle with their heads bent close together and I turn my attention back toward the maneuvering the car the rest of the way up the driveway.

"Oh my," I gasp, when the house comes into view.

It's gorgeous.

It has to be the one.

We all exit the car, me with the ever-trusty black box in hand, and make our way to the front door where I press the doorbell. I can hear a man, whose voice rivals Mr. Evil-Good's in the 'making panties wet in under five seconds department', tell someone, presumably his wife, that he'll answer the door.

When the door opens, I blink. Then blink again. Then once more, positive that the vision in front of me can't be real. He can't be real. Perfectly pale white skin, with not one blemish, not one freckle or scar or even a wrinkle anywhere that I can see. Hair that looks like someone, likely his very blessed wife, has spent hours running their fingers through. Eyes that aren't any color I've ever seen before and lips that are so perfectly proportioned God himself couldn't have made them any better.

"Oh I don't know about that, Ms. Komma, you'd be surprised at what Father can do if He sets his mind to it," Mrs. Evil-Good says beside me and shakes me from my lust-addled fog.

"Oh! Oh! I apologize! I'm Katherine Komma with Ellipsis Realty. Thank you so much for letting us stop by on such short notice! These are my clients, Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good."

"It's no problem. My name's Edward Cullen and my wife," he stops mid-sentence and tilts his head to the side as if he hears something. I try to listen but hear nothing. "Excuse me." He grins, flashing teeth that look almost like fangs but then his mouth closes so fast, I'm sure I imagined it. "Ms. Komma, feel free to show them anything they'd like to see, I uh ..." His eyes darken and I swear I hear him growl. "Just let me know what your clients decide. I have to go."

And in a flash he's gone, like he wasn't even here. I can't even hear footsteps.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn back to the Evil-Goods, ready to use every trick in the book to sell this house.

The bottom level is picture perfect. Huge kitchen with top of the line appliances that look brand new. A wide open living room with floor to ceiling windows lining one whole wall. A study, a formal dining room. It's all beautiful. It's almost like no one lives down here.

We move up to the second level, climbing the stairs. When we're about halfway up I hear something that sounds like a tree crashing down to the ground followed by the tinkling of bells.

Bells?

Weird.

The first two doors we look in are spare bedrooms that look like they haven't had a visitor in years. Years and years and years. Things still look promising. Both Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good have smiles on their faces and they haven't complained once.

The little black box sits in my pocket, and I can practically hear it whisper, "Don't get cocky, KK."

Mr. Evil-Good snickers behind me, and I wonder if he speaks little black box.

"Let's see what this room is," I murmur, as I open the door at the end of the hall.

"Oh, Father!" Mrs. Evil-Good shrieks when we enter the room.

"What in the Hell is that?" Mr. Hottie hollers and his wife slaps him on the arm.

"Watch it, Mister," she warns.

I stare at the floor, gaping at what's in front of us. "Is that? That looks like … but how?"

"That's the outline of a body. Believe me, I've seen plenty in my time, and that," Mr. Evil-Good points, "is most definitely the shape of a body. Funny, it doesn't feel like anyone I know has been in here."

"Yes, well, I've seen all I need to see. Come along, dear, you can thank your Father for yet another wasted trip."

_Click. Click. Click._

"Jesus Christ," Mr. Evil-Good mumbles, and his wife stops in front of him.

"Bella, honey. Try not to forget it again, hmmm? You know what happens when I'm unhappy."

He shudders and then grins at her, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, I've been a bad, bad boy, baby. I think I need to repent."

"You." She huffs, but she definitely does not look mad.

Turned-on yes, but definitely not mad.

No, mad would be me.

Fucking hell.

I really wanted that Rabbit, too.

And then as we walk outside, the nail in the coffin as Mr. Evil-Good glances toward the detached garage, which is really a large metal building. "Besides, look at that, babe. Anyone could stand in those trees and watch you while you were outside. Damn perverted creepers. No one's going to watch my wife but me."

As we climb into the Suburban, my fingers are clicking the little black box so fast, it's a wonder the damn thing doesn't crack.

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	13. Chapter 13

**~ The Final Chapter ~**

**Written By JA Mash**

**Based on _Strangers on a Train_**

I've never met clients quite like this before.

I'm running out of options here. I think it's time for something different. I try to give myself a little pep-talk as we sit in the empty train car, maybe I can actually convince myself this idea doesn't completely suck.

I've showed them everything I can think of, from houses that aren't even for sale, to underground hideouts... between the spiders, puke, sweaty socks and disappearing cottages, I'm lost.

I can only think of one more option.

To soothe my nerves I reach for my little black box. _Click-click, click-click-click. Click._

The train glides along the tracks and things are getting... weird.

As I glance around the train car, I notice Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good are sitting on the bench across from me, in their own little bubble, and I try not to stare when I notice a sticky blue goo on the window behind them.

_What the fuck is that?_

Something in my peripheral catches my eye and I snap my head to the right, I swear I see some tiny chick in a black tank top wielding a sword, but I blink and she's gone.

_Weird._

Clearly there was no woman with a sword... _who runs around carrying a sword anyway?_

There's more of that blue goo shit on the window though, and I'm convinced I'm fucking losing it.

_Click-click-click._

We can't get to this place fast enough.

The train screeches to a halt and Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good stand and follow me to the exit. "At least the train finally stopped, thank Christ we didn't have to jump or something. That would've been bad."

"You're welcome," Mrs. Evil-Good pipes up and Mr. Evil-Good just snickers.

Like I said... _weird._

Shaking my head, I exit the train... here goes nothing.

***o*O*o***

A long walk later, we're stepping into the clearing and I pull the watch out of my pocket and take a deep breath.

"So, I was thinking maybe it's time to show you something different," I tell Mr. & Mrs. Evil-Good, flashing them what I hope comes off as a confident smile.

Mr. Evil-Good cocks a brow and I think I whimper. No wait, I know I whimper because Mrs. Evil-Good shakes her head.

I clear my throat. "Okay, here we go." I push the buttons on the watch and stand back, raising an arm to shield my eyes.

The bright lights flash in front of us and out of the ground comes this huge tree... well, tree house.

It's massive, with a big wooden, winding staircase wrapping around it all the way to the top.

We walk forward and make our way up the stairs to the entrance, I'm giddy and I feel like a little kid again climbing up the stairs.

This has to be it... Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good seem like the type that would appreciate some 'out of the box thinking' and for fucks sake, it's in the air!

"Well, what do you think so far?" I ask cautiously as we near the top of the tree.

"It's different," Mrs. Evil-Good hums.

"Different?" I scoff, _and what the hell do you think you are?_ It'll do no good to get upset so I pull out my box and rub my thumb over the smooth plastic of the button.

_Click, click, click._

"Is it going to be big enough for our little angels?" Mr. Evil-Good adds.

"Oh, it's much bigger than it looks," I confirm.

We reach the door and I take a deep breath before I knock.

The door swings open and I do a double take. I swear it's the tiny brunette I saw on the train... minus the sword of course.

I take another deep breath and stick out my hand.

"Don't touch me," the tiny brunette hisses. "You're poisonous to my kind..."_ Tiny, crazy, lady that may or may not have a sword say what?_ "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Before I can open my mouth to explain, this beast of a dog appears at the tiny woman's side, his eyes are glowing green... and I'm officially freaked. The. Fuck. Out.

I chance a glance at Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good and I notice Scorcher's face is drawn in a scowl.

_Just fucking great._

"You know what, Ms. Komma... my wife and I have decided that we no longer need your services, it seems you have no idea what we are really looking for and we've decided not to move after all."

_What the fuck?_

In a flash Mr. and Mrs. Evil-Good are storming down the stairs to the tree house and the door is slamming in my face.

_So much for my commission, Mr. Cullen's gonna kill me._

At this point I do the only thing I can think of, I thrust my hand into my pocket and click my button.

Click it for all it's worth.

***o*O*o***

**Back at the office sometime later...**

"Ms. Komma? Come here!" Mr. Cullen whistles and pats his thigh.

I'm up and moving before I realize this is the way a guy summons his favorite lap dog.

I glare at Mr. Cullen, who radiates the purest of glee back at me.

Though it takes an effort of will, I stop, planting my feet solidly and anchoring myself to the spot. "What?"

"I said, 'come', and you 'came'. Now you've gone and thrown a monkey wrench in there by ceasing to 'come'. There's a direct sequence of events in place here. Delicate balance. Now, we can either stand here and argue semantics for the duration of your coffee break—"

I bristle. The imaginary Self inside my head bares her teeth and snarls, saliva flying.

Mr. Cullen smirks. "—or you can follow me and make this easy on both of us."

For a second there, I consider standing my ground.

"Your call, but Administration's got a few questions about why we suddenly have approximately, oh, thirty-two-hundred complaints from clients about properties you've shown. Would you happen to know anything about the errors in this report?" Mr. Cullen looks pointedly at the black box still clutched tightly in my hand.

I flinch, guilt-stricken, and open my fingers. I've worn most of the thin top coat of black paint off my button.

"Thought so. Now, follow me, and don't touch the button again."

Head down, shoulders slouched, little black box lying accusingly in my palm, I follow Mr. Cullen's footsteps away from the main floor and to the cubbyhole he calls his office. Its dark in there, close, the air redolent with the thick smell of paper and toner ink and, yes, coffee. The walls are damn near saturated with coffee fumes.

It's pure perversity that makes me click the button three times, but it still feels good.

The office door locks behind me with a solid click. Actually more of a ker-chunk with an added kick of _ha-ha, sucker!_

"Does this unlock from the inside?" I try the latch.

"It used to, before you pissed me off."

Mr. Cullen's calm. Too calm. This is the kind of calm that proceeds—

_Was that lightning striking?_ That distinctive rumble and flash of white heat… I sneak a peek at Mr. Cullen. Nope, that was just the Wrath of God.

Or, you know, a real estate broker who thinks he's God. On his bad days. On his good days, he's happy to be known as…

_Damn, his eyes. Green as Alpine meadows. Wait. That makes him sound like a dairy cow. Well, he did chew on a daisy or something yellow once. No, no, no, wrong mental image._

_Fuck, Edward's hot. Especially when he's this pissed off._

_I've gotta get out more often._

I take a moment to appreciate the irony that this revelation's occurring while I'm locked in an office with Mr. Cullen. _Who has the sexiest lips and the whitest teeth and, oh dear God, if he so much as crooked his pinky, I would go to my knees and drain him dry._

"What are you looking at?"

I cough. _Swerve! Swerve!_ "Your tie."

"My tie?" Mr. Cullen's not buying it.

"It's, um, it's a nice tie."

Mr. Cullen flips the tie up to check and gives me the raised, unimpressed, 'sardonic eyebrow of doom' over the plain navy blue cotton and damn it, he's still hotter than the pits of hell.

_I started off wanting to have a civilized chat about this, but I've mostly forgotten about that now because I'd rather lick every inch of your body. I would even suck chocolate off your toes if that was the only shot I had, and I know how long you've walking around all day and haven't changed your socks._

_Doesn't matter. I'd chow down, zero complaints, if it meant I got one minute of naked time with you._

The imaginary KK, who lives in my head and occasionally makes her way to these strange side trips I take from reality, covers her eyes with her hands.

"I taught you better than this," Imaginary KK laments. "It's not too late to walk away. Life could be sunshine and roses if you would get your hand out of your pants and quit dreaming the impossible Mr. Cullen dream. Okay?"

"You're one to talk," I mutter. "Besides, would you bet your life on that?"

Imaginary KK vanishes. _Typical._

"Bet my life on what?" Mr. Cullen crosses his arms. "How about we bet one percent of the commission from the next deal for every minute we're locked in here without some goddamn answers? How about that? Tick-Tock. Time's wasting. Well?"

_Mmm chocolate._ Fuck. God hates me.

I tap the door handle, once. The brushed chrome swings pathetically on its loosened hinge and falls. That noise is definitely along the lines of _oh, shit._ Which translates to _thud,_ if you're going to be pedantic about it.

I can feel the panic welling up inside my chest so I pull out the box again and click it a few more times.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Mr. Cullen freezes and smirks at me. "Ms. Komma, would that be the sound of you disobeying a direct order?"

And you know what? Once again, I'm just too tired to fuck around. I drop into the sorry excuse for a visitor's chair, without knocking off the stack of file folders, and look directly at Mr. Cullen, and nod. "Yes, sir."

"I thought it might be." Mr. Cullen leans on the desk, his weight on his hip. He's looking at me in yet another one of the thousand ways I can't interpret. "So, you've given that button a pretty good workout since you've been working here, haven't you?"

"It wasn't thirty-two hundred," I mumble defiantly.

"No. It was only three hundred and twenty. Does that make you feel better?"

I glare at Mr. Cullen. _I am not letting you push me until I lose my cool, I swear. Again, that is. I have recovered my inner Zen. I Have My Zen. So back off, buster._

"No? Aww." Mr. Cullen purses his lips into something so close to a kiss that a tiny traitorous part of my libido, forever online, jumps up to try and catch the smooch on its way past my head.

I, for once, say nothing, and I'm darn proud of myself for not doing so.

"Have we learned a little lesson today, about the misuse of petty power?" Mr. Cullen rhetorizes. "No? Shame. You know, if that was a real piece of company equipment, your ass would so be grass with the board of directors right now."

The air has ceased flowing through my lungs. "What?"

"That? It's got nothing to do with clients."

I weigh my options between crushing the black box and aiming it at Mr. Cullen's head.

In the end, I aim it at Mr. Cullen and click like I've never clicked before. "You. Gigantic. Fucking. Asshole!"

I expect Mr. Cullen to throw his head back and have a nice long laugh at my gullible nature. That's not what happens, though. Mr. Cullen draws in a sharp breath, instead, and fidgets.

Wait a godforsaken minute… I know that particular inhale. It's played over and over in my recent dreams. I sit upright, gaping at Mr. Cullen.

Mr. Cullen, whose shirt collar is open, his tie loose, and the smooth freckled skin beneath sheened with sweat. Mr. Cullen, whose short hair is damp and whose lips are full from biting them, as he does now.

Whose dark, mesmerizing stare is not so much inspired by sadistic evil as… okay, yes, it's still sadistically evil, but more… aroused.

I allow my gaze to travel, ever so slowly, to Mr. Cullen's groin. "Ungh," I say, staring at the hard-on tenting Mr. Cullen's pants. He could put an eye out with that thing.

"Starting to get the picture now?" Mr. Cullen asks, his sharp edges roughened and deepened.

"Ungh," I say again, waving the black box. "Ungh!"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how to talk," Mr. Cullen rasps. "That'd be a damn shame. I was looking forward to your 'to the victors go the spoils' speech."

An idea is slowly forming in the darkest, most suspicious pits of my head. I slowly aim the box at Mr. Cullen and deliberately click.

This time, I'm listening for it, and I hear it.

**Buzz.**

_Again._

**Buzz.**

I flinch sharply and bite my lip harder, leaving dents in the abused flesh.

"No way," I breathe, heaving myself out of the chair. I kick piles of assessment surveys and unread memos out of my way and don't stop until I reach Mr. Cullen. "Turn around."

Mr. Cullen cocks one eyebrow, lifts the corner of his lip, and turns.

And doesn't stop at merely turning. No, he grasps the edge of the desk, hands spaced far apart, and spreads his legs, feet firmly planted with ample room for even a person nearly twice my size to fit nicely in there.

I can't do anything but stare. And cuss.

"I think you told me to turn around," Mr. Cullen speaks to me over his shoulder, giving me the barest glance of demonically-lit green eyes.

He wiggles his ass. "Was there a reason for that request, or are you satisfied now?"

I don't see my hand moving until it's landed, flat-palmed, hard, between Mr. Cullen's shoulder blades. "Stay there," I demand, not recognizing the depth of my own voice as it escapes my lips.

Mr. Cullen shivers. He says nothing.

He doesn't have to. I've still got the little black box in one hand. I point. I click.

Mr. Cullen moans.

"You're unbelievable."

Imaginary KK peeks over a messy pile of file folders and snickers. "So I guess this is what you meant by the 'Almighty Power of the Cullen Ass'?"

Not that I really mind the reference, but imaginary KK cannot be here right now. "Go away!"

"What did you just say to me?" Mr. Cullen demands, bristling.

"Nothing. Stand still." I know what I'm going to find, and it's that good old perversity coming into play again that motivates me to keep pushing the button while I drag Mr. Cullen's pants and boxer briefs down, pushing them past his knees. The telltale slick gleam of lube trails between his ass cheeks.

When I part them, hammering the button, I see the flared black base of the vibrating, remote _fucking _controlled butt plug quiver in sync with my clicks.

"Dude," Imaginary KK breathes, and then flees. "I'm not worthyyyy…"

"I hate you," I breathe. I drop the little black remote fucking control in my hurry to pull up my skirt, once again thankful I don't bother with panties. "I hate you so much."

"Yeah. I can see how much you hate me." He spins around and lifts me up quickly. I rest my knees on either side of the desk, straddling him where he's sitting. My hips undulate of their own accord, rubbing my bare pussy over his—ohfuckthatfeelsgood—cock.

"Took you long enough to figure it out."

"Shut. Up," I beg. Mr. Cullen opens a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it on fast.

"Wait!" I breathe.

"Would you mind explaining the hold-up?" Mr. Cullen complains, fisting his cock. "Naked here. In case, in case it's slipped your mind—"

I slip my hand over Mr. Cullen's mouth. He stiffens, drawing up sharply. "I told you to shut up," I say firmly.

Mr. Cullen bites me.

I don't let go. He didn't bite hard enough to break the skin, anyway. I lean up and take a nibble of my own out of his delicious collarbone and he doesn't back away. _Which means… he likes it, too? Good._

Slowly, ever so slowly, I reach around and take the tip of the plug between two fingers and tug. I let it get an inch or two out, then drive it back in, tilted up.

Mr. Cullen's yell is muffled behind my hand, but the heave of his ribs and the desperate hitch of his hips come across louder than words.

"You know," I say hoarsely, twisting and turning the plug, "I had a theory."

Mr. Cullen snarls.

"I thought maybe you were playing head games to make me hate you so I wouldn't like you. Or something."

Mr. Cullen snorts. And turns his face so I can't see his eyes. Three seconds pass, and he shuffles in place, growling impatiently.

I tighten my hand, careful not to cover his nose as well. "I thought I might be right." _Am I? I don't know._

Thing is, letting Mr. Cullen sense a moment of weakness is like bleeding in shark-infested waters. Bad Idea. And in any case, when in doubt, stick out your tits and brazen it out. "Now I don't think I'm right at all," I—mostly—lie.

Mr. Cullen slants a look at me, alight with challenge. _No?_ I can almost hear him ask.

"No," I answer the unspoken question, sliding the plug free and tossing it to the floor. "I think you're just a sadistic, demonic, twisted, amazing, too-damn-hot-and-you-know-it asshat. Now. Fuck. Me."

Finally, he's had enough of the teasing; pushing inside me roughly in one thrust, giving me every last inch he's got.

It's a good thing I'm sitting on the desk now or my knees might buckle; he pitches forward, and it's only my sudden grip on the desk keeping me from falling backward.

"Are you done talking now?" he grunts as he pumps harder.

"Ungh," is my clever response.

"Thought so," Mr. Cullen says, leaning over me to keep me down. He braces himself with one arm, thrusting slow and deep.

I whimper.

One lusty, ragged breath, and I'm thrusting back to meet his shoves forward, the wet slapping of flesh to flesh and churning breathing as violent as a storm. "Knew you'd be easy," he taunts. "Too easy. Almost no fun at all."

I would say I'm having more fun than is possibly legal, if I were able to speak. Which I'm not. I nose and bite at Edward's jaw until he turns to crash our mouths together. Lips move uselessly over lips and through it all he pumps deeper, harder, faster.

"Oh—God…so tight," he moans loudly.

"Yeah," I gasp, "like that, just like that, come on—"

His growl tastes delicious on my tongue; I swallow it and trade back a moan of my own. I seal my mouth over his and suck his tongue and scrape it with my teeth as we fall over the edge together.

When we part, Mr. Cullen smirks and I look so well-fucked and satisfied that I'm pretty sure I feel his dick jerk, still inside me, suggesting now would be a great time to start all over again. _Seeing as I'm here, and naked, and all._

"So… about the clients you lost today," Mr. Cullen says, pulling out and reaching down to grab his pants. _There goes that fantasy._

Out of nervous habit, I go to reach for the button, whimpering a little when I remember it's not there anymore.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I bat my eyelashes, in what I hope is a seductive distraction.

"I think that was your last chance. You're obviously not the sales rep I thought you were, so, you're fired!" He is giving me a shit eating grin like this is the best decision he's ever made.

Inside I'm dying. _So much for the shopping cart._

"Which means that you are free and available to pursue what I think you are exceptionally talented at... fucking me."

_Shopping cart? Who needs a fucking shopping cart when you have Edward fucking Cullen... to fuck._

"I'll accept your terms on one condition... consider it a compromise," I state and he raises his brow at me.

"I get to keep my little black box."

**~The End~**

**SO? How was THAT as a surprise ending. Never saw it coming...get it...coming. Never mind.  
**

**I'm amazed that in this world of wires and email and webcams, I have developed the kinds of friendships that I have.  
**

**I got a few birthday wishes on my real Facebook page...but I got almost 200 on my Fanfic page.  
**

**Tells you something...  
**

**To each one of you ladies who participated...who read my stories and enjoyed them...who actually gave a shit that I was born...  
**

**I love you and hope that I can return the favor on your birthday.  
**

**MWAH!  
**


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